


domingo en fuego

by Take_Me_To_My_Fragile_Dreams



Series: when human frailty is in the hands of a monster [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Anxiety, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Demons, Demons with pets, Did I Mention Fluff, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eren/Rivaille and Eren/Levi are already established relationships, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Getting Together, Healthy Relationships, Hell Trauma, Human/Monster Romance, Hunter will eventually be invited into the sandwhich, I said it, I swear there's going to be a lot of it once they all get their shit together, Idiots in Love, Injury Recovery, Interspecies Relationship(s), Jealousy, M/M, Magic, Making Up, Mates, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Mental Health Issues, Mental Link, Mentions of Past Torture, Mentions of past abuse, Near Death Experiences, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Recreational Drug Use, References to Depression, Scars, Selfcest, Slow Build, Soulmates, That's right, as healthy as they can be with demons anyways, but everyone will be involved in some way or another, but is it really, but it's fine, demons with disabilities, eventually, everything is fine, featuring historia hurt my friends and i'll stab you reiss, it's demons man, it's one big happy foursome, just a we saved the world but we can't get our shit together foursome, like how to play video games, some demon angst, some human angst, teaching demons the finer things in life, the usual, they're all kind of hopeless, this is probably going to be more hunter/rivaille centric, various povs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22854373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Take_Me_To_My_Fragile_Dreams/pseuds/Take_Me_To_My_Fragile_Dreams
Summary: In reality, that should have been it. Demon chow splattered across the walls for some poor sap to find. Instead, he’d been offered help; sanctuary. Rivaille was both like the demons Hunter had seen in pop culture and unlike anything he could have ever expected. He was sharp edges carefully filed down so as to not hurt; a seething anger held at bay by sheer will alone; a mass of complicated history and surprisingly human worries and fears.Against all other judgement, Hunter found himself liking him. He couldn’t find it in himself to hate such an awkward excuse for a demon, especially not one that was clearly trying so hard despite the fact that it would be so much easier for him to simply kill Hunter and be done with it.(aka the UTB foursome spinoff no one asked for)
Relationships: Eren/Hunter, Hunter/Rivaille, Levi/Eren Yeager, Levi/Eren/Hunter/Rivaille, Levi/Hunter, Rivaille/Eren, levi/rivaille - Relationship
Series: when human frailty is in the hands of a monster [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643008
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	1. Intro

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Under The Bed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2754893) by [Corporal_Levi_cleans_my_house](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corporal_Levi_cleans_my_house/pseuds/Corporal_Levi_cleans_my_house). 



> domingo en fuego - sunday is on fire
> 
> Long time no see, especially for a levi/eren centric story. I said before that I wasn't going to be writing any more of this pairing but Under the Bed has been a fic that's stuck with me for years and I just couldn't resist finally asking permission to write the spinoff that's been rattling around in my head since Hunter was first introduced. This fic is entirely Hunter's fault and I'm not mad. 
> 
> If you're wondering who any of these characters are I would advise you read Under the Bed first, otherwise you may be extremely confused. As the chapters go on I'll be touching on the past but you'll be missing a ton since I can in no way summarize the monster that is that fic. (plus all of the author's fics deserve all the love and attention there is)
> 
> Quick shoutout to haberkonium who has inspired me throughout the years and who gave me permission to go through with this. Even if Under the Bed is never truly finished it'll always hold a special place in my heart <3
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I know literally nothing about the potential future of the actual UTB. This is merely a scenario that I've always wanted to see play out and it's probably nowhere near close to what haberkonium has in store for their fic
> 
> Enjoy!

Hunter was fifteen when he met his first demon. Sick and homeless and on the run he hadn’t thought things could get much worse; he supposed whether or not they did depended on one’s own viewpoint. He knew several people back home that would have crossed themselves and made in the opposite direction. Mrs. Jones for one, with her white sedan that was forever plastered in religious symbols and the cross that hung from her dashboard. The store clerk that always looked at everyone coming in the door as if they were possessed. Jessie Richards, who was always adding captions about the lord to all of her photos on social media.

The thing was, Hunter knew demons had a bad reputation and he’d never once thought he’d come face to face with one. After all, demons weren’t real, were they? Wrong. He had never been more wrong.

To be fair, one look at blood soaked claws and Hunter had booked it in the opposite direction. There was no story out there that ended well for the teenager that stayed in an alley with the resident murderer. Unfortunately for him, demons were fast. Far faster than a sixteen-year-old who hadn’t eaten in days and who could barely keep his lungs working with the sickness that seemed to rattle in his bones.

Long story short, he’d been out of his league. A mouse running from a cat with no cover to be seen. He’d been caught, forced into a corner and with no help in sight. The idea that he had run away from home only to be caught by some supernatural asshole with a bloodthirsty appetite had rankled him, so he’d done what any teenager pushed to the edge would do: he’d talked back to the demon.

In reality, that should have been it. Demon chow splattered across the walls for some poor sap to find. Instead, he’d been offered help; sanctuary. Rivaille was both like the demons Hunter had seen in pop culture and unlike anything he could have ever expected. He was sharp edges carefully filed down so as to not hurt; a seething anger held at bay by sheer will alone; a mass of complicated history and surprisingly human worries and fears.

Against all other judgement, Hunter found himself liking him. He couldn’t find it in himself to hate such an awkward excuse for a demon, especially not one that was clearly trying so hard despite the fact that it would be so much easier for him to simply kill Hunter and be done with it.

So, Hunter did what he did best; he listened, he pointed out where things were going wrong and he gave what advice he could. At the end of the day he let Rivaille leave him in the attic of a stranger’s house, cloaked in magic and with nothing but a bunch of cats for companions.

When Rivaille appeared once more to rip off one of his nails and offer it to Hunter in the form of a necklace, he accepted. When Rivaille later called on Hunter to let him back through to the human world, he did so. He listened to Rivaille rant about his mate and tried not to panic when he was informed that the fate of both their worlds was in the hands of said mate.

Hunter was sixteen when Rivaille disappeared for what would be the last time. He was sixteen when three weeks later, he found himself staring into the eyes of Mrs. Norman, who was kind enough not to report him to the police and who patted his hand and gave him money for the bus after he’d stuttered out an explanation.

He was sixteen when his reflection returned for good, and he was sixteen when he went home to the mess he’d ran away from.

He was seventeen when his Mom moved so that he could have a new start, leaving his father behind with a newly printed set of divorce papers.

He was eighteen when he finished his GED and began to stop fearing the end of the world. _Rivaille had said time passed differently in Hell but surely two years meant that it was over?_

He was nineteen when he stopped looking into the mirrors for any sign of Rivaille and moved in to a college dorm. _He was studying psychology_ he told his roommate and when asked by his professor why he was doing so he couldn’t help but remember Rivaille telling him he should be a therapist. It wasn’t the only reason, but the reminder stung.

Twenty: he stopped wearing the necklace and accepted that Rivaille was either dead or finished with him. The former left a strange sense of loss behind while the later seeped anger and bitterness into his veins; he wasn’t sure which was worse.

Twenty-one: the claw in his dresser became nothing more than an afterthought; a strange trinket that had no use and yet one he just couldn’t seem to bring himself to get rid of.

Twenty-two: he moved into an apartment complex with his roommate-made-best friend and started to act like the teenager he’d never gotten to be. Parties weren’t all that they were cracked up to be, but he found that they were a good place to melt into the shadows and just _be_ for a while.

Twenty-three: he finished his thesis and graduated by sheer will power alone.

Twenty-four: he settled into a job, adopted a cat and had his world turned upside down all over again.

_The claw disappeared from his dresser._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very short intro, chapters will grow with time :) 
> 
> Comments are appreciated!


	2. Awake and Alive(?)

The first thing Rivaille remembered was pain. All-encompassing pain like nothing he’d ever experienced. Sure, he’d had his share of shattered bones, gauged eyes and missing body parts. He’d even been _eaten alive_ during his first life and yet nothing had prepared him for what being eaten by Eren’s father would feel like.

His body had been consumed, _torn apart_ , **shattered**. He’d felt his soul tear, his flesh and bones breaking under the force of it, _melting_ in the sweltering heat as all around him thousands of souls wailed and howled in agony. Being swallowed by a Titan was real Hell; an endless eternity of suffering without reprieve. It was nothing like the mercy he’d tried to give his fellow comrades.

Worst of all was the heart wrenching roar he’d heard moments before he’d been consumed; his mate righting himself from where Rivaille had shoved him aside, left to do nothing but watch as Rivaille sacrificed himself to a titan once more, this one bigger and more horrifying than those from another lifetime.

He’d had a brief chance to send his apologies through the bond, to wonder if Eren could really win, if his power would be enough to cause the titan to weaken, if the spitfire he’d left on earth was going to die due to their loss.

Then he’d screamed, louder than he’d ever screamed before; a nightmarish wail that would have ruptured eardrums and shattered glass; one that would have sent storms down onto the earth and shattered bone. Would have, if fire hadn’t traveled down his throat, inside his veins, cutting off the noise before it could even start.

Being swallowed was an experience he had had nightmares about and living it once more was never something Rivaille had wanted to do. He’d done it though, for his mate, for Eren. He had thrown himself onto the chopping block in his stead knowing what fate had awaited him.

This left the fact that he was staring up at a smooth stone ceiling all the more confusing.

“Rivaille,” a voice said, the sound distant and filtering into his ears strangely. “You’re finally awake.”

He blinked once and found that one of his eyes was unfocused in a decidedly distracted way. He tried to lift a hand to feel it and found his movements painfully slow, limbs weak in a way they hadn’t been for centuries.

A distressed growl bubbled up from his throat at the sound of movement; it increased in volume when he realized that he was in his weakest form. He hadn’t allowed himself to be this vulnerable in centuries. The fact that he was practically powerless and in a strange room with an unknown occupant did not do favors for his emotional state.

Rivaille heaved himself up into a sitting position as the door slid shut, arms shaking with effort. He squinted down at his right arm and let out a hiss of frustration at the lack of focus in his right eye. He’d been injured, clearly, but why was he in a bed instead of in the belly of a beast? What sort of new Hell was this?

The door opened and Rivaille’s head shot up with a snarl. He bared sharp teeth, tail thumping weakly in anger against the silk sheets. It took longer than he wanted to admit for him to recognize just who was standing in front of him and even longer to fully comprehend it.

“Eren?” He said in a voice like crackling fire. Were his vocal cords damaged as well?

“Rivaille,” Eren breathed, eyes big and wet and too fucking sad. “You’re awake. I thought—“ he cleared his throat and gave his head a small shake. “it’s been a long time.”

If Rivaille felt like death, Eren looked like it. There were dark circles under his eyes and a paleness to his skin that told him he hadn’t been eating as much as he should have. There was a strange scar on his shoulder, one that should have healed by now judging by the tissue. None of that explained why he was here.

“The titan,” Rivaille rasped. He lifted a hand to his throat with a scowl and sent a furious demand for it to heal. “What happened?”

Fire lit Eren’s eyes and he shot Rivaille a glare. “We killed him,” he snapped. “after you were eaten we were able to take him down. What the fuck were you thinking? You could have died! For _me_! **Again**!”

It was silent as those words sank into the room and Rivaille frowned. The fact that they both remembered their previous lives had always been a subject they’d avoided. He wasn’t sure what to think about them talking about it now. “You were in danger,” he said flatly. “I may be an asshole, Eren, but I wasn’t about to watch you die.”

“No, instead you left me to sort through thousands of souls, trying to find you, trying to bring you back—“ Eren’s voice hitched as he sank back against the door. A hand lifted to scrub furiously at his eyes. “Why couldn’t you stay back? Do you have any idea what’s happened to you? It’s been _years_ , Rivaille.”

_That_ certainly got his attention. “Years,” he managed to say. His eyes slitted. “explain.”

“We got you out before the titan could consume you completely. You were burnt badly when I found you.” Eren crossed the room and hesitated in front of Rivaille. His hand lifted to hover near Rivaille’s face and it was then that he realized that Eren’s hand was covered in old burn scars. “It’s taken years to get your body to heal. I don’t know if you’ll ever truly recover.”

Shock spread throughout his system as those words sunk in. It had been a lifetime since he’d had to worry about never coming back from an injury. He’d cut off limbs without blinking; had torn his own eyes out with the carelessness that came with knowing he was practically invincible. His hand lifted to his right eye once more. His fingers encountered a roughness that was unfamiliar, and he turned his head to see Eren clearly. “Show me.”

“Rivaille—”

His tail thrashed as he bared his teeth. _“Show me.”_

Eren let out a put-upon sigh and disappeared for a brief second. When he returned he had a mirror in his hands. He held it out wordlessly for Rivaille to take before he took a seat beside him.

Rivaille stared at the mirror. His tail gave a hard thump against the mattress when he realized that he was nervous. Annoyed with himself he flipped the surface over and stared into the eyes of his own reflection. It was the scars that hit him the hardest. His body had never been able to hold scars, not since he was thrust into demon-hood. All marks eventually faded away with time but the burns on the right side of his face seemed to have grabbed a hold of his skin with no intention to leave anytime soon. He traced over the dips in his skin, left eye following his fingers. The burns peaked at his temple before falling down his jaw. A shift of the blankets told him that it traveled the entire length of his body, all the way down to his right foot.

His left horn was cracked, the tip broken off. His tail was covered in shiny patches of scar tissue and he dreaded to think about the state of his wings.

“I’ve done the best that I could,” Eren said quietly. “Once I dug you out you were surrounded by healers for a month. I fed you souls and used my venom to help with the worst of the wounds. After that it was just a matter of your body recovering. I—wasn’t sure how long it would take. If you’d ever wake up in the first place.”

Rivaille placed a hand over Eren’s when his voice shook and discarded the mirror. “Years,” he said mildly. “How many?”

“Seven.” Eren clutched at his hand like a lifeline. The distress that blasted through their bond was almost enough to make Rivaille flinch. Eren’s eyes were wide and wet, head bowed as he fought to speak. “You’ve been asleep for seven years.”

Time had ceased to pass slowly for Rivaille a long time ago. He was ancient, had spent centuries wandering bored and going slowly insane. Seven years meant nothing to him and yet—“How’s snack pack?”

Immediately, Rivaille knew it was the wrong thing to say.

Eren stiffened. A growl bubbled up from his throat and rage slammed into Rivaille’s side of the bond. “I wouldn’t know,” he practically hissed. “I’ve been here the whole time.”

There was regret residing at the back of his head, urging him to let it go, to let this reunion be a happy one. Rivaille ignored it in favor for disbelief. “You haven’t left?”

“No, Rivaille.” His hand was yanked away as Eren stood to pace the room. “Between watching over you and making sure everything fell into line after my father fell, I didn’t exactly have time to visit the mortal world. Believe it or not I wasn’t about to abandon you.”

There was a hurt in his eyes when he rounded the bed to stare Rivaille down. A hurt that hadn’t been there for a long time; since before they’d bonded.

“You really think so little of me?” His shoulders slumped as the fight left him. Despite the armor he wore and the new position he held Rivaille couldn’t help but see his mate; lost and hurting and in need of reassurance. “You think I could just _leave you?_ To pretend like nothing happened?” 

A heavy sigh passed Rivaille’s lips. “No, lamb.” He held his hand out and did his best to ignore the fact that it was shaking. “I’m sorry.”

It was a phrase he was becoming more and more familiar with, courtesy of Eren and his counterpart. At the reminder of Hunter, he spared a moment to wonder how he’d fared throughout the years. It was quickly pushed aside when Eren took his hand.

Rivaille pulled him back down on the bed and let out a soft croon as he nuzzled into the side of Eren’s neck. There was a sharp inhale when he brushed against the bite marks that marred Eren’s skin. Hands slid over his shoulders to clutch him closer.

“Rivaille,” Eren breathed, soft and sweet and everything Rivaille’s past self had had no clue that he wanted.

“Seven years is a long time.” Though Rivaille hadn’t been awake he could feel the time stretching out across their bond, beckoning them to make up for lost time. “Too long to be without you.”

Eren let out a breathless laugh even as he dropped down to a softer form. His glamor left with it as he slid into Rivaille’s lap. “I should have known you’d immediately skip to sex. Never mind making sure you’re even healthy enough to go through with it.”

A growl bubbled up from his chest though it held little heat. “Sweetheart, I could be half dead and I’d still find a way to go through with it.” His hands traveled over the expanse of skin that had been offered to him, relearning what he already knew so well. He paused at the burns that started at Eren’s shoulders. “Are you in pain?”

“You would know if I was.” Eren pulled back to meet his eyes. His hands cupped Rivaille’s face as he leaned down to steal a kiss. “They healed during the first year. I barely even notice them anymore.”

Something passed over his face as he considered his mate before Eren tilted his head up and to the side. “You’re awake now,” he explained before Rivaille could question him. “My blood should help to clear up anything truly dangerous since you’re not willing to wait to eat first; especially since I absorbed my father’s power.”

That was a whole other topic to discuss but Rivaille was weak to his mate and truthfully, quite hungry when he bothered to think about it. An offering like that was too much for him to resist, especially when given so willingly.

“You’re perfect,” Rivaille said into the skin of his neck before he opened his mouth and bit down; hard.

Eren gasped though it didn’t take long for the sound to turn into a moan. His hips ground down against Rivaille’s as he clutched him closer, urging him to bite harder, drink deeper. His own teeth ached to return the favor, but he resisted. He would have a chance when Rivaille was back to full strength. For now, sharing would have to do.

“Ah, fuck.” He shuddered when Rivaille’s teeth overlapped one of his marks. It’d been too long since he’d felt heat spill out from his claiming bites; too long since his body had been ensnared in a pleasure that only his mates could give.

He fumbled between their chests and earned an unhappy growl when it jostled Rivaille’s position. Eren let out a soft whimper in answer as he squirmed to position himself over his mate.

The first stretch was blissful agony. Eren’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as Rivaille’s claws dug into his hips. His thighs pressed against Rivaille’s and Eren was already quivering when they began to move together.

He was aware that he was speaking, nonsensical words and phrases as he begged Rivaille not to stop, to never stop, _to stay—_

He spilled across their stomachs with a broken sound as Rivaille lifted his head from his neck. Their mouths met in a symphony of moans and snarls as Eren’s back hit the bed. He was panting into the contact, grasping at any part of his mate he could reach as he was rocked with the force of his thrusts.

“Please,” he gasped.

“Please what?” Rivaille coaxed. His tongue dragged up Eren’s neck to catch some of the blood dripping down his skin. A feral sound filled Eren’s ears when it hit Rivaille’s tongue.

Eren met his eyes, blown out with bloodlust and open. _Alive_. He felt tears begin to fill his own as he clutched Rivaille closer. “Stay,” he choked out.

Something softened in Rivaille’s expression. His hands grew gentle even through the bloodlust as he chased after his own completion. “Always,” he swore.

As he orgasmed and claimed Eren’s insides in the most basic of forms, something in Eren settled. He believed him.

They fell down onto the sheets, side by side and panting. There was still a faint sting in his neck but Eren didn’t bother healing the marks. He never did.

He twined his fingers with Rivaille’s and let out a lazy purr as his mate came down from the high of tasting his blood. His eyes closed in contentment, seven long years of stress finally beginning to fall away.

Rivaille’s eyes opened to see the smile that curled Eren’s lips. He was about to tease him for being so damn sappy when his heart froze in his already dead chest. He had thought that being eaten was the worst pain he’d ever experience but looking at the indentations of teeth on Eren’s skin made him think twice.

“Eren,” he somehow said around the ice closing around his throat. Eren shivered as the room dropped in temperature, still too out of it to notice the hurricane of emotion that was begging to beat down his side of the bond. “What did you do?”

He lifted a hand up to trace over Eren’s arm. His teeth were scarred into the skin of Eren’s forearm and Rivaille’s fingers trailed up higher, to the path of indentations that covered the left side of Eren’s neck, from shoulder to jaw.

Eren stiffened as he finally caught on.

Rivaille felt anger begin to rise alongside his hurt. _“What did you do?”_

Those weren’t his bite marks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title also known as this is why we can't have nice things
> 
> Comments are appreciated! Tell me what you thought!


	3. Bittersweet Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: brief mentions of animal abuse and Levi's first demon meal

Becoming a demon was not the most pleasant adventure out there. Levi didn’t regret it exactly. He would never be able to regret the decision that meant he would be able to stand by Eren’s side for all eternity; an equal instead of the frail human he had once been. But there were draw backs he’d done his best to ignore when Eren was around. The fact that he would have to watch the people he loved wither away, for one. The hunger that demanded he kill, for another.

Eren had failed to teach him that little lesson though Levi doubted it was intentional. Eren had been careful with him since day one and any sign of pain had always distressed him. Levi knew that his mate had been stretched thin. Between Rivaille and himself, and whatever plan Eren had been hatching for Hell there hadn’t been much time for any demon eating lessons.

That hadn’t made the fact that he’d almost eaten his best friend any easier to swallow.

He was lucky he’d had enough sense to recognize Hanji’s scent, and they were lucky that they’d had enough previous experience with demons to know when they were in danger. In the wreck of his living room he’d taken one look at their wide eyes and fled.

He’d come back to awareness hours later, up to his arms in gore and with a bitter taste in his mouth. Levi had retched onto the blood-stained pavement, tears leaking from beneath his closed eyes as he tried to ignore the fact that there were chunks of human flesh in the bile.

If Rivaille could have seen him Levi got the feeling he probably would have laughed. Then again, Levi wondered if he could even blame him.

What a pathetic excuse for a demon he’d made. Trembling and overwhelmed by the stench of death, his hunger only just sated by the soul he’d ripped free from his victim. He’d been tempted to run but Levi couldn’t risk leaving a path back to himself.

The last thing he wanted was another Erwin.

The body was disposed of and any sign of his crimes had been wiped clean. When he returned home, he was unsurprised to find Hanji still inside, the living room clear of glass and his broken coffee table set off to the side in a neat little pile.

“I’m sorry,” he’d rasped, aware of just how lost and scared he’d sounded. Hanji had yanked him down into their arms seconds later, even despite the blood dried into his clothes.

“I should have gotten the shotgun,” they’d growled.

Levi hadn’t had it in him to argue. He was distressed and grappling with the realization that he was being forced into a lifetime of murder. He’d known it of course, but it was only just starting to sink in.

He needed Eren, needed reassurance and explanations and to just be _held_.

But Eren was in Hell, fighting a war that could very well kill them all. So, Levi did his best to breathe and wrapped his arms around Hanji. He pretended that there weren’t tears wetting their shoulder and they were gracious enough not to mention it.

It took a long time for him to stop feeling like he was dirty after that. The phantom touch of blood on his skin and the memory of the taste of human flesh haunting.

Not for the first time he wondered just what he’d gotten himself into.

* * *

He was weary as he woke up from a restless sleep. It’d been a long time since he’d been able to rest easy. What he’d discovered was the bond that linked him to his sire and mate was constantly vibrating with stress. In the beginning Levi had found it comforting to know that Eren was alive. Seven years later and it only served to hurt.

He climbed out of bed in somewhat of a haze and made his way to the bathroom. The shower was turned on before he stepped into the warmth of the spray. His tail flicked every now and then but otherwise stayed plastered to his legs. He pressed his hands into his eyes, careful of the claws that had become normal.

He was so bone achingly tired. Tired of being alone, of waiting for Eren to come home. Tired of not knowing what was going on, of being left in the dark like a lost child.

It was hard to feel like an equal when he’d been left high and dry for seven years. Levi had done his best not to get bitter about it.

He stood beneath the spray until a familiar scrabbling at the bathroom door pulled him out of his haze. He let out a soft sigh and stepped out of the shower. He was dry in moments—a handy trick he’d learned accidentally.

“I’m coming.” He passed by the mirror without a second glance. Forced himself to ignore it.

The door opened to reveal a small mutt. She came to his knees with short fur colored in brown and black blotches. She was missing a leg and half an ear but was no less exuberant about life. He knelt to scoop her up into his arms and made his way down to the kitchen.

Eren had always told him that dogs didn’t get along with demons. Levi wasn’t entirely sure if he was still human enough to get by or if his own dog was just defective. Either way he hadn’t exactly questioned it.

“Alright,” he muttered as he set down her wiggling body. He pulled out a container of wet food to fill her bowl with before stepping back to watch her devour it all.

Lu—also known as Lucifer to Hanji, who thought themselves hilarious—was a rescued stray and it showed in her eating habits. Levi was no stranger to the streets, and he could sympathize with the instinct to eat when you could and as much as you could, for there was no telling when you would get the next chance.

He’d found her abuser by a river, about to throw her in to drown. He hadn’t felt much remorse for devouring him when he’d opened the squirming bag to find her battered body. She’d whined at him, one green eye big and scared while the other was crusted shut. He hadn’t been able to leave her behind, nor had he been able to leave her to a shelter when told that dogs with disabilities had fewer chances of being adopted.

They’d grown together, Lu in human—or demon, in his case—trust and Levi in easing his own loneliness. She made the house seem a little less empty. Kept his head from getting too messed up about his circumstances.

He let out a soft sigh and ran a hand through his hair. A few strands fell into his eyes, messy from where he hadn’t bothered brushing it. He ignored it in favor of opening his front door to let Lu out. His Keurig sputtered to life when he brushed past and by the time, he’d sat down on his porch steps he had a mug in his hands.

Eren’s magic settled around him to shield from prying eyes. It was the most contact Levi had gotten from his mate and all he’d really had for the past seven years. His tail gave a morose thump as he pondered whether he wanted to bother leaving the house.

It was a Monday and his day off. He wasn’t expected in for lessons until Wednesday and Hanji was working on their most recent snake exhibit until Friday at the latest. He could go shopping, he supposed, or to the park. Other dogs might not like him, but Lu was an avid enough defender of his honor that it was manageable.

Lu whined from her place at the base of the stairs, her ear perked in attention. He frowned, about to ask her what was wrong when he felt it. The air swelled with power, crackling like electricity. Moments before Lu started barking, he heard it: the shattering of glass.

He was up without really thinking about it, mug dropped and discarded as he threw the door open. He was a blur as he ran into the living room and just barely managed to skid to a stop before he could bowl his new guests over.

“Eren,” he said, eyes wide and disbelieving. He almost didn’t notice his other guest, too caught up in wondering whether he was in a dream. Lu came barreling down the hall and he scooped her up before she could try and attack.

“Rivaille.”

Rivaille looked like Hell. His complexion was dull and almost sickly. There were burn marks all over the right side of his body and he looked like he might fall if he stood for much longer. “Snack pack,” came the reply, though it was lacking the animosity Levi had expected. Above all, Rivaille just sounded tired. The kind of tired that sat deep in your bones and made you want to sleep for an eternity.

Levi would know, he’d spent the better part of his newfound demonhood feeling that way.

“Levi,” Eren breathed, clearly torn. His face twisted with pain when Levi wasn’t able to contain his hurt. “I’m s—”

“You broke my mirror,” Levi said mildly. “Again.”

He let out a soothing purr to try and calm Lu. It was a sound they’d both become acquainted with and she let out a whimper of confusion.

“You found a broken pet,” Rivaille muttered. “How cute.”

He sank down into the sofa behind him, looking every bit the weary old man. When Eren cast him a worried look he waved a hand. “Oh, don’t worry about me, lamb. Go have fun with your _mate_. Wouldn’t want to rain on anyone’s parade.”

The animosity Levi had expected was back. He tried to keep his shock hidden when he realized the cause.

Eren had seemed convinced that telling Rivaille about their mating would only end in violence. Clearly something had changed, though Levi was becoming extremely tired of being kept out of the loop.

“Don’t eat her,” Levi said sharply as he set Lu down. She slunk around a nearby armchair to stare at Rivaille.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” came the bored reply.

Eren darted his gaze upstairs; Levi tried not to sigh. He trailed after him with one last suspicious glance back at Rivaille. He nearly stumbled when he saw that Rivaille had his eyes closed, his shoulders slumped in what looked like defeat. Rivaille didn’t look angry like his words had led Levi to believe. He looked—sad.

Levi closed the bedroom door behind him and was immediately wrapped up into Eren’s arms. He was stiff in the embrace, torn between the instinct to clutch onto mate and never let go and the memories of being left alone to navigate his new life.

“You’re okay,” he found himself saying. “it’s nice to see it in person instead of hearing it from Mikasa every other year.”

Eren stiffened but Levi couldn’t find it in himself to regret it. There were worse things he could have said and trying to hide all the hurt he’d felt would only ruin the them both.

“I’m sorry,” Eren breathed. He pulled back to hold Levi’s face in his hands, eyes full of yearning. “I couldn’t leave Rivaille. Hell only just got back on its feet and he finally woke up a few days ago.”

“I know. It was in the reports.” He tried not to sound bitter, but could he really be blamed? Having to hear a toneless run down of the basic goings on of Eren’s life over in Hell hadn’t exactly been pleasant but it was better than Erwin showing up at his house at least.

True to his word Levi hadn’t seen him since he’d put his hand through his shoulder all those years ago.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Because despite the hurt and the years apart, Levi was. Nothing could make him lose love for Eren. He’d signed on to eternity and he’d meant it.

“Are you?” It was clear that the question was rhetorical as Eren searched his eyes. It was unclear what he found but it clearly wasn’t what he was hoping for. “Is there any chance we can pretend none of this ever happened?”

Levi wasn’t sorry for smashing the foolish hope in those words. “No,” he said softly. “I don’t think we can.”

He let out a soft sigh and reached down to twine his fingers with Eren’s. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he led Eren over to sit down on the bed. “How about you fill me in on everything? I have a feeling you’ll have more to say than Mikasa.”

Eren still looked tense but at least the fear was gone. He gave Levi’s hand a small squeeze and took a deep breath. “Why don’t I show you?”

* * *

Rivaille was doing his best to pretend he wasn’t sitting inside his would-be rival’s house. Though Levi was much more than a rival now, wasn’t he? He was an equal, as much as it made Rivaille’s lip curl to think about it. They were on the same playing field now. In fact, in the state he was in Levi might even be stronger than him right now. It was a thought that made his tail lash in agitation.

He’d known Eren had done something stupid, had had his suspicions, but he’d hoped to find out from Eren himself. Not from a slip up in glamor and a forced explanation.

As much as knowing Eren had tied himself to another hurt it hurt more to know that after everything Rivaille still hadn’t earned his mate’s trust. He’d known he had a lot to make up for but after agreeing to stand by Eren’s side in a war that terrified even him, Rivaille had thought he’d earned some sort of rapport. 

Apparently not.

He opened his eyes when a soft whine filtered in through his good ear. He let out a sigh when his eyes met those of Levi’s mutt.

“What?” He asked mildly. “Don’t tell me you’ve adopted your owner’s penchant for being troublesome.”

He earned a huff for that. Rivaille examined the dog with interest. He took note of the old injuries before coming to rest on the green eyes staring back at him. They were almost stern, as if the creature was warning him to behave. He wondered if Levi had picked out those eyes on purpose.

“Lucifer,” he read off the tag around her neck. With no one else to see it, he let a faint smile curl his lips. “I’m sure Eren will love that.”

Lucifer perked up some at the sound of her name. She crawled closer on her belly, until she was almost touching Rivaille’s foot. They stared at one another for a few long moments before she finally lifted her head to give his hand a tentative lick.

“You’re a strange one.” Rivaille didn’t push her away. He was curious why she wasn’t reacting badly to him; perhaps she could somehow sense that he had once been a part of her owner?

She jumped up onto the couch once she was satisfied with sniffling at his skin. Her head settled down onto his thigh where she took up vigil, her eyes fixated on the stairway Levi and Eren had disappeared into.

He let his hand fall onto her head where he stroked her fur absentmindedly. Eren had erected a silencing barrier which made it much easier on Rivaille, who had been trying to ignore whatever was happening upstairs. Past the muddled bond he knew nothing about what they were doing. They could be murdering one another, and his stubborn mate would probably insist on keeping Rivaille in the dark.

He sighed. “Why am I always surrounded by such troublesome little shits?”

Lucifer didn’t deem him with an answer—not that he’d expected one. He settled down to wait, eyes traveling over what little of the house he could see. It was a clean and well-loved space with pictures of Levi and his friends dotted around the place. He tried to ignore the nostalgia he felt at the sight of Hanji and all the others. The comrades he knew were gone, nothing more than their human counterparts left to wander the world cluelessly.

The thought reminded him of another human he had had yet to check on. “You think they’ll notice if I’m gone?” He said more to himself than anything else.

Lucifer whined in response.

“I’ll leave a note.” He nudged her off and stood to enter the kitchen. There was a pad that was clearly meant for grocery lists, but he tore off a page and picked up a pen. He scribbled down a quick explanation, told Eren not to follow him and left it on the table. His mate would find it eventually but by then Rivaille would be long gone.

There was no sense sitting around a house where he wasn’t wanted, especially if it meant having to watch Eren and Levi play the ever-happy couple.

The door slid closed behind him as Rivaille disappeared, leaving Lucifer staring forlornly at the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rivaille is a tired old man pass it on (the sass master will return though, don't worry)
> 
> Comments are welcome!


	4. Old Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm too lazy to try and think up alternative names for other characters so those that matter are keeping some form of their original names, this has been a psa
> 
> fun fact: owning a maine coon is a goal in life and i'm living vicariously through hunter rn

Hunter was having a relatively decent day as far as Monday’s went. His last appointment of the day had called in sick which meant he had the rest of the afternoon to himself. The remainder of his paperwork was saved and put on file before he pulled his jacket on and slung his bag over his shoulder. The heavy wooden door to his office locked behind him with a gentleness that belayed its size.

He nodded to the two secretaries on his way down the carpeted hallway before he came to a stop by the employee entrance. There was a window stretching out beside the door; he glanced up at the somewhat gloomy sky and debated whether he wanted to risk riding in it. It was strange, he hadn’t seen any sign of rain in the weather forecast—and he’d been sure to be thorough in checking it ever since he’d gotten into a wreck that left him with road burn all up his left leg.

He sighed and tugged his phone out to see if there was any chance of a pickup. Marco was working at the clinic and Historia answered his text almost immediately with a short _‘can’t—I’m going to jail for murder.’_

That earned an amused snort. He sent back a particularly amusing video involving a child and a knife before pocketing the device once more.

It seemed he’d have to risk the rain—he could always pull over if it got too bad.

He zipped up his leather jacket—a gift Historia had given him after his first accident, despite his protests—and made his way out to where he’d parked his motorcycle. His mother hadn’t been all that thrilled with his choice in vehicles but as always, she had simply sighed and told his eighteen-year-old self that he had to take a safety course.

He unlocked the chain that kept it stationary and tucked his bag away inside the back compartment. His helmet was pulled down over his head before he kicked the stand up and started the engine. The city wasn’t as busy as it usually was due to the fact that he’d gotten out of work before the normal late afternoon rush hour.

He avoided the busiest streets as always in favor of a slightly longer route that involved less stops; the sky was holding out and he was comfortable enough to risk it. The rain had only just begun to kiss the sidewalk when he drove into his apartment complex’s underground parking lot. An ominous roll of thunder chased after him and Hunter frowned. He was suddenly glad that he’d gotten off early. The last thing he needed was for Killer to tear Historia’s sheets up again out of anxiety.

His bag was thrown back over his shoulder, helmet tucked under an arm as he stepped into the elevator and punched his code into the keypad. He’d refused to live in a penthouse for a variety of reasons, the first being that you couldn’t open the damn windows if you were that high up. Historia had given in without much protest, which left them on the third floor.

He stepped out of the elevator and into the foyer of their apartment—when they’d rented the third floor, they’d rented the _entire_ floor.

Killer was nowhere to be found when he knelt to unlace his boots, a fact that made Hunter frown. Usually he would be all over him, especially if he was anxious. He set his helmet on the side table and hung up his jacket and keys.

“Killer?” He felt for the light switch and swore when a flash of lightning made him jump. “Christ,” he muttered as the lights finally came on. “talk about a heart attack.”

He grabbed an apple off the kitchen table in the search for his cat, stopping briefly to look under the table and around the kitchen island. “Come on out, you’re starting to worry me!”

The hallway lights were flipped on as he headed towards his room. He ducked his head into the bathroom but found no sign of anything. The same could be said for the side closets which left his own room and Historia’s. “Killer, please tell me you’re not in Historia’s room! She might actually shave you if you keep getting hair all over her clothes.”

He came to a stop with a frown when he found his bedroom door closed. He always left his door open; Killer had a cat tree in there and liked to sprawl out on the bed.

There was a soft cry from inside that made him push that thought aside in favor of opening the door. He cursed when a blur of fur bolted past and nearly knocked him over in the process.

“Hello to you too,” Hunter muttered. “What the hell’s got you so spooked?”

“That’s probably my fault,” a voice said from behind him.

Hunter stared wide eyed as a pale hand reached up to catch the apple he’d thrown without even really thinking. His hand fumbled for the light switch immediately and all thoughts of weapons in the house fell away as the intruder’s features were revealed.

_“Rivaille?”_

“Sapling,” came the reply. Rivaille tossed the apple back at him and raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “You stopped wearing the necklace I gave you.”

Hunter barely heard him as his head began to shake. “Is this real?” He asked suspiciously. He stepped closer to wave at the air as if it would reveal some sort of projector technology. Then again, no one knew about Rivaille’s demonhood. Who would even be able to go this far?

His eyes took in the new scars on Rivaille’s face and the almost defeated expression hiding away inside his eyes. It hit him then that if Rivaille was back it either meant that something very good had happened or something very bad.

“Shit,” he breathed before his guest could even open his mouth. “you didn’t need my help to get here. Does that mean—?”

“The war was won,” Rivaille answered. His expression shuttered off. “My fated is alive.”

“And you?” Hunter was surprised that the first thing he felt wasn’t anger. Instead, it was concern. “No offense, man, but you look like Hell—and not in the usual demon-spawn way. Do you need help?”

There was some sort of ridiculous irony behind a human asking a demon if they needed help and it didn’t seem lost on Rivaille. An amused snort answered his words. “What help could you give me?” His tail flicked restlessly, and he let out a sigh. “I came to check on you. I know it’s been a while.”

“Try _seven years_.” Hunter crossed his arms and frowned over at him. “I thought you lost interest, or worse. You never responded when I tried calling for you.”

“I was—indisposed,” Rivaille said carefully. “the battle took a lot out of me.”

The words did little to ease the memories that were beginning to assault him. Hunter could remember the first time he’d reached out for Rivaille. It had been a few months since he’d returned to a home in disarray and he’d hidden himself away with the very same mirror that had started his whole spiral into freak-dom.

As much as Rivaille had told him about demons and summoning one, he’d never felt it necessary to explain just how the claw around Hunter’s neck had worked. So, Hunter had been left feeling like an idiot as he pressed his palm to the glass and called Rivaille’s name. He’d spent thirty minutes talking to the air, unsure of just how long it was supposed to take. Eventually he’d been forced to give up, though it was not the last time he sequestered himself away.

He tried again and again and again, until the sting of abandonment had been too strong to ignore, and Hunter had been forced to come to terms with the fact that if Rivaille was alive he simply didn’t care.

The reminder still stung.

“You were indisposed,” Hunter echoed in disbelief. “So indisposed it took you seven years to come back? I called for you, asshole! I thought you were _dead_!”

Rivaille didn’t seem to know what to do with Hunter’s worry. He frowned and shifted back on his heels. “I was locked in a healing sleep,” he finally said. “I only just became conscious a few days ago.”

It was as if his anger had been a balloon that Rivaille had taken a needle to. “You’ve been in a _coma_ for seven years?”

“If that’s what you must call it, yes.” He held up Hunter’s necklace, which Hunter was only just realizing had been in his hand the whole time. “Care to explain?”

They stared at one another for a few long moments, Hunter with a loss of what to say now that all his previous theories on Rivaille’s disappearance had been put to rest and Rivaille who was far too tired to bother with the nuances of normal conversation.

“Come on,” Hunter finally sighed. “I could use some lunch and you look like you need to sit down. I’ll order some food and we can talk.”

Rivaille followed silently after him, a mere shadow on the walls.

* * *

Rivaille wasn’t entirely sure what he’d expected after deciding to track down Hunter. Whatever expectations he might have had were lost as he tried to reconcile the kid he’d met all those years ago with the man that now sat on the couch beside him. Of course, compared to Rivaille’s lifespan Hunter was still a mere pup. It was a memo that mortal lifespans didn’t bother following up with.

There was strength behind his frame that had not been there. An ease in his posture even in the presence of a demon that told Rivaille that Hunter had grown out of the twitchy paranoia being on the run had installed into him. He seemed—happier. Settled. It made Rivaille’s own recent turmoil all the more apparent.

“So, you were eaten,” Hunter said with the barest traces of disbelief. He’d been taught early on in their relationship not to be surprised anymore. “By a giant angry demon who wanted to destroy the world.”

“Both worlds,” Rivaille corrected somewhat absentmindedly. He poked at the container that had been shoved into his hands with the declaration that Hunter had _had enough of Rivaille watching him eat, thank you very much_. It smelled faintly of grease and had an interesting kick when he dared to use the chopsticks he’d been given.

“You’re doing it wrong.” Hunter reached over to adjust Rivaille’s fingers. He made a face when claws got in the way, much to Rivaille’s amusement. “That should be easier.”

Rivaille tested out his new grasp on the device and found that his companion was right. “You never answered my question about the necklace.”

He glanced up in time to see the complicated emotion that passed over Hunter’s face.

“Right,” Hunter said without much enthusiasm. “I stopped wearing it a few years ago. I think when I was twenty? I mean, I kind of felt like an idiot wearing it around when I was convinced that you had decided that I wasn’t worth the ride over anymore.”

He frowned, though Rivaille couldn’t deny that he hadn’t done much to prove that he wasn’t simply using Hunter for his own means—which he had been, in a way. He let out a weary sigh and ate another bite of noodles and chicken. It wasn’t a soul, but he couldn’t deny that it satisfied something in him.

It seemed that he had more than one person to prove himself to.

“I take it that isn’t true?” Hunter continued carefully. He glanced over at Rivaille before his eyes returned to his own container. “Or are you just here to ask if the arrangement still stands?”

“No,” he said. “it’s not.”

He was distracted from his thoughts by the second approach of an animal in one day, though this one was particularly more suspicious. A great mass of fur jumped up onto the arm of the couch Hunter leaned against. It was bigger than Levi’s dog had been, with narrow blue eyes and long grey fur.

“I don’t think he appreciated you dropping in.” Hunter reached up to stroke the fur between his cat’s ears. “This is Killer.”

“Killer,” Rivaille echoed with some amusement. “Are all humans so ridiculous with their names?”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” He gave a pointed thrust of his chopsticks. “I’ll have you know that Killer is a perfectly acceptable name. Besides, he’s killed enough bugs to qualify.”

“How terrifying.”

Killer let out a meow as if in agreement and made a swipe for Hunter’s food. He earned an indignant sound and a half-hearted reprimand; it was clear that it was a routine for both of them.

Rivaille found himself staring once more, cataloguing the differences in Hunter’s appearance. One side of his head was shaved, and there were several piercings sitting high up on his ear. There was a faint scar on his jaw and his face had become sharper as he’d matured. His shoulders were broader beneath the long-sleeved shirt he wore and there was the faintest trace of color peeking out from beneath the v of the garment. Rivaille found himself wondering just what it belonged to.

“I’m starting to worry about you,” Hunter said when Rivaille realized he had been staring down at the bottom of his empty container for quite some time, uncertain as to when he’d finished it off. “Not that I wasn’t already worried. Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

“A soul and some rest would help,” Rivaille said grudgingly.

“Fresh out of the first unless you count me. I’m going to be pissed if you came back only to take back your word though.” Hunter set his food down on the coffee table. “Do you want to sleep? My bed is free.”

Honestly, he was too easy, Rivaille couldn’t resist. “My, how forward of you. It seems that more than your appearance has changed.”

Hunter’s cheeks flushed hotly as the implications hit him. It was an amusing reminder of their first meeting, when Rivaille had managed to convince him that his tail was some sort of sexual appendage. “That’s not what I meant,” he finally managed to get out. “if you want the couch instead, be my guest, but Historia will be back in a couple hours and Killer might crawl all over you.”

Rivaille considered it and gave a small shrug. It wasn’t as if he particularly liked the idea of returning to Levi’s house. He wasn’t thrilled with the thought of trying to figure out sleeping arrangements and choosing to sleep in Hunter’s bed was leagues beyond having to handle Eren trying to subtly convince him to sleep alone.

“Alright,” he acquiesced.

“You can use my shower too if you want,” Hunter added. “if you need clothes you can take whatever you need. Guess it’s my turn to play the sweet father.”

Rivaille couldn’t help but smile even as he let out a put-upon sigh at the jab. “That was seven years ago, sapling, have you really not let it go?”

“Not a chance.” He smirked and gave a playful wave as Rivaille stood. “Sweet dreams, Mr. Timeless. I’ll be sure to rethink the perks to this arrangement while you sleep.”

He didn’t complain when Rivaille ruffled his hair on his way past. The sound of laughter was a nice one and Rivaille felt lighter somehow as he walked back to Hunter’s room.

Perhaps being dragged back to the mortal realm wasn’t going to be all that bad, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the boys are back together and hunter is one big question mark
> 
> [the knife video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d6gBu2Zd7Bc)  
> if you haven't already seen it, you're welcome
> 
> Tell me what you thought?


	5. Communication

Eren came back to himself with a slow blink as he left Levi’s head. He was just in time to see Levi grimace as the discomfort that came with memory sharing hit him.

“Fuck, I’m never getting used to that.”

He smiled slightly as their tails curled into one another for comfort. “You could do it too,” he said carefully, when Levi seemed to have caught his bearings. “I can teach you how it works.”

Something like uneasiness passed over Levi’s face. “I don’t know that that’s a good idea, Eren.”

“Because you’re afraid of hurting me?”

“Yes,” Levi said honestly. He glanced down at their twined hands and let out a soft sigh. “This whole demon gig hasn’t been easy without you. I haven’t exactly been all rainbows and sunshine.”

Eren’s shoulders slumped. He had known that of course; had felt it through their bond before Levi had figured out how to adjust how much feedback was given. He’d been so torn between Levi and Rivaille but with Hell in such a fragile state he hadn’t been able to bring himself to leave. As much as he trusted his people, he couldn’t leave Rivaille’s side. It had been instinct to stay to watch over him; to protect him if the need arose.

“See, that’s why.” Levi lifted a hand to tap lightly at the furrow between Eren’s brows. “I know you feel guilty—fuck, I just _felt_ everything that you have for the past seven years—and I get it. I wouldn’t want to leave you if you were injured, either. There wasn’t exactly a winning scenario in your situation and even though it sucked I’m not going to hold it against you. I just—need time.”

A soft croon bubbled up from his chest as he pulled Levi closer. He nuzzled into his neck and let out a soft sigh. “Do you really think not talking about it is best?”

“What you’re suggesting is a little bit more than just talking.” Even still, Levi snuggled closer. He could hear Hanji at the back of his head, demanding that he sort this out before he screwed everything up. He knew that if he didn’t, they would have no problem telling Eren about all the shit they were still pissed about in Levi’s stead. That was a relationship that still had to be repaired.

“Alright,” he finally said. “but you do it. I don’t want to mess it up and cause some Freaky Friday shit.”

“That’s not possible with something as simple as memory sharing,” Eren chuckled. “Though now that I’m here for the foreseeable future we can have some magic lessons.”

“Yer a wizard Harry,” Levi muttered under his breath before lifting his eyes to meet inquisitive green. “Go ahead.”

Their foreheads touched as Eren cradled Levi’s face in his hands. His touch was careful, as if he was afraid that Levi would shatter if he held him too roughly. It was a silly fear considering just how durable demonhood had made Levi, but it was one that Levi understood.

He felt the brush of something _other_ against his conscious and didn’t fight it. Slowly, Eren seeped in through the cracks and filled Levi’s head. There was still reluctance in Levi, born of the innate fear that he would somehow fuck all this up; that Eren would disappear again.

A wave of reassurance enveloped him when Eren caught the thought and Levi surrendered to his gentle prodding without protest.

The first year was the hardest. He was confused and struggling in his new body. Hunger he’d never known before haunted his every waking moment until he nearly killed his best friend. Relieving the memory of his first kill wasn’t pleasant, nor were the days of guilt that followed. The anger at being left alone to fumble through it hurt, even if he had come to terms with it now.

There was his return home, covered in blood. Hanji hugging him, ignoring the gore and helping him clean up.

Discussions of what he was going to do about his newfound hunger. An acceptance from them that he hadn’t thought he’d deserved and a list of wanted criminals. It had been clever; ease his guilt by sending him after the worst scum they could find. As disgusting as the human part of him had still found eating someone, it worked.

He found Lu in the second year and spent most of it nursing her back to health.

_“Lucifer seems to be helping you. I’m glad you took her in.”_

_“I thought I told you not to call her that.”_

_“Did you? Must have slipped my mind. Anyway, here are her dog tags. She’s officially yours.”_

_The tags said Lucifer, because of course they did._

**_“Hanji—”_ **

_“Gottagobye!”_

The third year he flooded Hanji’s bake sale with more food than he’d ever baked before, courtesy of his decreased need for rest. His food bills were at an all-time high and he suddenly understood how Eren had always been able to wolf down any food in sight.

Mikasa visited him for the first time to tell him that Eren’s plan had gone well but that Rivaille had been injured. Levi spent a month driving Hanji crazy with his worrying until they finally threatened to summon Eren themselves.

The fourth he added a garden to the back of the house out of sheer boredom. He took to seeing how fast he could circle the city and eventually branched out to simply running in whatever direction he chose. He brought Hanji back small souvenirs from forgotten towns and out of the way places. The others he tucked away inside a box in his closet for the day when Eren would return.

The fifth he started to become more and more disheartened. He knew that time was different for demons but to someone so freshly turned he still felt human in that sense. He wondered if he would be forced to watch his friends grow old without Eren by his side and tried not to let the thought haunt him.

The sixth and Mikasa’s infrequent reports began to anger more than relieve. His turmoil was a mass of confliction that he did his best to hide from their bond.

He broke every punching bag at the gym and left feeling wholly unsatisfied.

The seventh and he woke up to a sudden and startling sense of happiness and pleasure from Eren’s side of the bond. Confusion kept him still before he finally pieced together what was going on and he was left miserable and bitter as he tried to ignore what it meant.

Eren and Rivaille appeared several days later, both looking worse for wear.

_Joy, confusion, yearning._

Levi felt it all over again and was aware of his arms clutching tighter at Eren’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” Eren said softly as he withdrew from Levi’s head. “I never meant to cause you so much pain. I should have been here.”

Levi gritted his teeth against the sting in his eyes. “You did what you had to do. I don’t hold it against you.”

“Maybe you should,” came the sad reply. Eren ran a thumb over his cheek, wiping away the traitorous tear that had escaped Levi’s eye. “I can’t believe I forgot—” he took a deep breath, “there’s no excuse for not teaching you how to feed. I can only ask that you let me try and make up for it.”

His wrist was caught before it could pull away, holding his hand to Levi’s cheek. “Eren, the fact that you’re here is already making up for it. If you really want to do something more though, you can mend things with Hanji.”

“I will,” Eren promised. “even if it means letting them shoot me with the shotgun.”

He earned an amused snort at that. “Don’t give them any ideas, I can’t handle a heart attack so soon. Handling Rivaille is going to be hard enough.”

Eren stiffened at the reminder. A frown tugged at his mouth as he glanced at the bedroom door. “I know neither of you like the idea of being here together, but I didn’t know what else to do. The human world will do his recovery good and it’ll give me time to spend with you.”

“I know.” Levi tapped his temple and gave a wry smile. “I know your reasoning; I’m just surprised that he hasn’t tried to kill me.”

“He wouldn’t.” On this, Eren seemed sure. “As for everything else—I’ll keep an eye on him.”

He was reminded of the look of defeat he’d seen moments before climbing the stairs and Levi grimaced at the sympathy he could feel tugging at his gut. “He seems different.”

“Getting swallowed will do that to you.” Eren squeezed his hand. “Do you mind if I make sure he’s settled before we do anything more? He won’t admit it but finding out about our mating shook him.”

“Surprise, surprise.” Levi shook his head and allowed himself to be tugged up off the bed. “Go ahead. I should check on Lu, anyways.”

Their tails were reluctant to part as Eren left his side to open the door. Levi trailed after him at a slower pace and found Lu laying on the couch. She whined as her tail wagged faintly and he sat down to pet her. He was relieved to find her in one piece, though if he thought about it, he hadn’t truly thought that the man he’d seen sitting on the couch was capable of animal slaughter right then.

“Fuck,” Eren breathed from the other room.

Levi frowned and stood to enter the kitchen, where he found Eren staring down at a note and clutching at his hair almost frantically. “What’s going on?”

Eren whirled around to face him. “Rivaille,” he said anxiously. “he’s gone.”

“Gone?” He echoed. “What the hell do you mean, _gone_?”

He earned a wild gesture down at the note and he stepped forward to read it over. “Gone hunting, don’t come after me.” Levi picked it up and flipped it over to find the back blank. “Didn’t you bring him here to hunt?”

“I did, but he’s still injured and probably not thinking straight.” Eren cursed and scrubbed at his face with his hands. “ _Fuck_ , this is exactly what I need.”

He stared down at the note for a few long moments before he set it aside. “Maybe it’s for the best,” Levi said carefully. Eren shot him an incredulous look but he continued before he could interrupt. “He just found out that I’m a permanent fixture in your life now. If it was me, I would probably want some space, too, especially if I was brought to his house.”

There was guilt in Eren’s expression.

“Look, you know him best, but this doesn’t sound like someone who’s out of their mind. It just looks like he’s asking for space.” Levi shrugged. “As much as I don’t like the idea of him being loose without supervision isn’t it better if he gets his head on straight before coming back?”

“You make sense,” Eren said slowly. “I just—”

“Can’t stop relieving the seven years he was in a coma?” He smiled wryly. “I don’t blame you, but he’s awake now, and he just learned something big. If he doesn’t come back in a few days and you’re still worried you can always go looking for him.”

Eren’s shoulders slumped. He allowed Levi to take one of his hands to pull him into a comforting embrace. “I’m just worried about him,” he whispered. “he almost died for me. I can’t get that image out of my head.”

As much as Levi didn’t want to be talking about Rivaille he knew that he was going to have to get used to it, especially since they were all stuck together for eternity now. “So tell him that the next time you see him.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“That’s because it is.” He gave Eren’s waist a light squeeze. “You’re the one making it difficult.”

Eren let out a soft sound of amusement and relaxed further into his embrace. “It wouldn’t be the first time.” He lifted his head to fix Levi with an earnest gaze. “Thank you, Levi. You have every right to be pissed that I brought him here, so I appreciate what you’re doing.”

“Just call me a saint,” he said dryly. “I’m sure Hanji will get a kick out of it.”

Eren smiled at him, soft and sweet and far too much for Levi’s heart to handle. Their mouths met before Levi could settle the twisting in his stomach and he was immediately lost. He hadn’t had contact in what felt like forever and his body was earning for the touch of mate after so long.

He whimpered before he could help it, a wild lost sound that Eren answered with a soft growl. He was hoisted up onto the kitchen table, Eren’s hands on his thighs as his own curled into messy brown locks. He was reminded of the wonders of not having to breathe when he didn’t have to part from the contact once, mouth hungry for everything Eren was willing to give.

“Fuck,” he gasped when Eren dipped his head to press a kiss to the bite that sat on his collarbone. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too,” Eren said against his skin. His head lifted once more to claim Levi’s mouth, clearly torn between where he wanted to be. His claws flexed against Levi’s sweatpants and he let out a soft groan. “Can I—?”

Levi pushed his hips up and yanked Eren closer. “Do it.”

His pants fell in tatters to the floor. Levi barely noticed as their skin met, stomach slicking when their arousals ground against one another. He was whimpering in an entirely animalistic way, an apparent side effect of becoming a creature of Hell, clutching at Eren with no real ideas as to what exactly he wanted other than to have his mate as close as possible.

“Levi,” Eren moaned as their tails twined together. It was obvious that he didn’t want to put any distance between them, and Levi was entirely on board, satisfied with the tantalizing slide of their skin and yet wanting more still.

He was aware of what his limits had been as a human, but in his state, Levi was wondering if they could get away with the lack of lubricant. Eren was certainly leaking enough and Levi’s body would heal where his human one had not.

Eren seemed to catch on to his thoughts and bit down, overlapping his teeth with one of his mating marks. Levi went weak and shivery in his arms and when he came back to awareness he was full to bursting and beyond pleased with it.

“Yes,” he gasped, claws drawing blood as he transformed fully. He was aware of the ache in his jaw and the faint throb of his head, but he was too focused on mouthing at Eren’s neck to really care. His teeth were sharp in his mouth and the flesh in front of him was too tantalizing.

He let out a questioning sound without really knowing what it was he was asking for but Eren seemed to understand all the same. A hand guided his head closer before Levi felt teeth against his own neck. He bit down out of reflex and was lost all over again as Eren’s blood flooded his mouth.

He was barely aware of his orgasm, too lost in pleasure to differentiate between what was happening to his body. When he finally pulled away Eren was rocking against him even as his seed threatened to escape Levi’s body.

“Fuck,” Levi gasped. His eyes fluttered, body loose and pliant against his mate’s.

Eren crooned into his shoulder and lifted his head to steal a kiss that tasted of blood. “I love you,” he murmured before he pressed Levi down into the table and began fucking him again in earnest.

Levi wailed in answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everyone loves some 'we communicated and don't hate each other' reunion sex


	6. A Heavy Debt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: anxiety, sensory overload, brief dissociated state, extremely brief allusions to attempted assault (Historia)

Hunter stared after Rivaille for a long time until Killer’s weight in his lap forced him to turn back around before the container in his hands could be covered in fur. There was a strange twist in his stomach as he regarded what was left of his lunch and Hunter was left wondering if he wasn’t having a very surreal dream.

His feelings were in that not quite there state, too far to grasp and yet just close enough to leave a restlessness at the back of his head. He itched to move without really knowing just what it was he wanted to _move to_ and so he simply sat instead, eyes unfocused and mind wandering.

Rivaille was back.

Rivaille was back and _injured_.

It was that that Hunter couldn’t seem to comprehend. He’d seen Rivaille dangerous and cloaked in shadow, his own darkness swirling around his feet like a tamed animal. Rivaille had told him himself that he was one of the top dogs of Hell, that he was just as dangerous as Hunter had first thought, if not more so.

To think of a force, a creature, that could almost snuff all that out? It was terrifying.

Dead, too, according to Rivaille.

He set his food aside for Killer to sniff at and curled his legs up into his chest. Hunter hadn’t felt like a child in quite some time, but face to face with his past and he was back there, somehow. Small and sick and just trying to survive. Unable to trust anyone, with no friends or family. Hunted down like an animal in the name of what? Some cult driven by a madman he still had no real clue about; given his scent by his own father who had as good as offered him up on a silver platter.

_“They’ll tell you he’s dangerous, they’ll tell you why and then we’ll never see our little boy again.”_

Hunter closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. It was never a good thing when his past rose up to lurk around the edges of his mind. It had taken therapy and a will all his own to lose most of the paranoia that had been instilled in him at a young age. Trust was even harder when something that wasn’t even his fault had lost him his friends and half his family.

No reflection, no humanity; that was what the world had taught him. He’d been labelled a monster against his will and forced to act the part whether he wanted to or not. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t harmed anyone. It didn’t matter that he’d been just as scared as everyone else.

Killer bumped against his white knuckles and Hunter came back to himself in a sudden rush of clarity. His hands were marked vigorously as his cat rubbed his face against his skin in rough affectionate strokes. A loud purr rumbled up to fill the silence and Hunter felt something in himself ease.

He took a deep breath, held it, and exhaled.

_Control your breathing. Catalogue the things around you. Remember that you’re safe._

Hunter stared at the necklace on the coffee table. If he didn’t know better, he probably would have considered it to be a very oddly shaped rock. No one would automatically assume that it was a claw. People didn’t have _claws_ and no animal on earth had quite the shape and size of the one that hung from his cord.

Losing the protection of being unseen had been like a blow. All his security ripped away without any warning, leaving him to flounder. Fear had been thick and cloying when he’d lost his place in Mrs. Norman’s attic but what else could he have done? Demanded he stay?

Returning home was terrifying. Hunter had almost abandoned ship more than once. He couldn’t be sure what waited for him and the unknown worried him. It was only the fact that Rivaille had mentioned that the church crazies after him were being taken care of that gave him the courage to return.

Despite the lack of protection, the necklace had been a comfort to him for a time. He hadn’t felt quite as alone, somehow. He’d known that Rivaille was out there somewhere—or at least, he’d hoped he was. The necklace was a reminder that he wasn’t crazy, that something bizarre _had_ happened to him but he was alive regardless.

The details of that hadn’t been given to his therapist; instead he’d invented a different, similar story, with the guise of PTSD hiding away several telling facts. Hunter had gotten good at lying. He wondered if Rivaille would notice.

He picked up the necklace to bring it up to eye level. “You’re trouble,” he informed it, torn between what to do. Wearing it again felt too much like forgetting what he’d been through. He wasn’t ready, the sting of abandonment, no matter how imagined, was still there, impossible to wipe away in only a few hours.

If he started wearing it again only for Rivaille to disappear once more—well, Hunter didn’t want to go through the whole complicated mess for a second time.

He set the necklace back down and considered his options. Rivaille was sleeping in his bed which left his usual hide away inaccessible. The living room felt too bright in its current state, too blinding in the wake of his fast thoughts. He pulled the blinds down and the curtains over until the room was swathed in darkness. Only a sliver of light peeked out from the sides of the curtains, but it was tolerable.

Killer jumped up onto the couch once he’d fallen back down into it, well versed in what to do. Hunter grabbed the headphones he kept stashed in the drawer beneath the coffee table and rolled to curl his body around Killer’s. He closed his eyes as music began to filter into his ears and did his best to simply exist.

_Inhale, hold, exhale._

_Remember your body, remember that you are more than the thoughts racing through your head._

His heart thumped in his chest, a persistent beat that he was overly aware of. He wanted to crawl out of his skin, wanted to move, wanted to stay as still as possible and become one with the furniture.

Rivaille was back.

 _Why_ was he back? Why come to him of all people when he didn’t need him to cross over anymore?

_Inhale, hold, exhale._

Killer purred beneath his arm and Hunter breathed.

* * *

The elevator doors opened sometime later to let in the first real light in hours. Hunter stirred from where he had been not quite dozing, his music still working through his ear drums. There was a night light by the main door for instances like the current and Historia turned it on to shed her shoes properly.

They were both well versed in one another’s problems. They both struggled to stay afloat every now and then and Hunter trusted her, as hard as that had been at first. He felt more than saw her approach his place on the couch.

He wasn’t gone enough not to take his headphones out to let her know that she could touch him, that it isn’t too much.

“Bad day?” She asked as her hand ran through his hair.

“Overwhelming,” he said honestly, the words slow and heavy in his mouth. He swallowed in an effort to come back to himself, to stop feeling like a ghost in his own skin.

Historia hummed as he shut off his music, the faint thrum of the sound needling at the back of his skull. “Scoot over,” she finally murmured. “I’ll be big spoon.”

“You’ll never be big spoon.” The words were muffled into Killer’s fur, weak and lacking the proper inflection. It was a far cry from his usual teasing, but it was something. 

She made a thing out of huffing at the insult even as she wormed her way into the space behind him and threw an arm over his waist. Her hand moved to pet Killer when he let out a soft chirp at the sudden adjustment. “You’re lucky I like you.”

He smiled, faint but there. “I know.”

They fell into silence for a few long moments and he worked to match his breathing to the rise and fall of her chest.

_In, out, in, out, in—_

“What happened?”

_—out._

“Rivaille’s back,” he said, because while _demon_ had been a well-kept secret, his time on the streets had not. She knew enough from his late-night stories to know that Rivaille was—is—his proverbial angel.

“The guy who disappeared?”

He exhaled his exhaustion and pretended that he could see it fleeing into the darkness. “Yeah.”

She frowned into his shoulder. “What for? I thought you lost contact?”

“I did,” he admitted, and felt his heart rate spike with residual anxiety. “He found me again today. I think he’s in a bad spot but won’t really admit it.”

Historia knew his penchant for taking in strays. Knew that he was too kind for his own good sometimes, just as she knew that for anyone else, he wasn’t afraid to let fists fly. It was how they’d met after all.

_(She sneered at him, defiance in her eyes despite her ripped dress and bleeding knees. “I didn’t need your help.”_

_His knuckles throbbed with the ache that came with bone meeting jaw. The man on the floor groaned but did not get up. “You have it anyways.)_

“He’s here isn’t he?” She sighed and tightened her arm around him. “That’s why you’re on the couch.”

He huffed out a laugh that was more air than humor. “Am I that obvious?”

“I’m a lawyer, remember, I’m supposed to be able to predict what people have and will do. Besides,” she continued with fond exasperation. “I know you. You’d never leave someone you think needs help without a place to stay.”

“It’s my Achilles heel,” he murmured, if only because he knew how much she hated mythology. Pulling the reason out of her was like pulling teeth but he knew now that it was because of the endless tragedy that plagued them all.

“Shut up,” she retorted without heat. Her breath was hot against his shoulder, a silent reminder that he wasn’t alone. “You want me to kick him out?”

His laughter was sudden and loud. He couldn’t help it, picturing Historia in all her tiny fury up against Rivaille who was just as vertically challenged— _“clearly we don’t talk about that”_ —was just too funny. “No,” he finally wheezed. Killer had jumped down sometime during his bout of amusement and he took advantage of the sudden space to turn over. There was a smile on his face as their foreheads brushed, his body finally settling back into the moment. “No, but thank you, History.”

“Anytime. I know the perfect places to hide a body.”

“I don’t think a lawyer is supposed to say that.”

She smirked. “I’m off the books, nerd. You good if I turn on the tv?”

He thought about it and gave a nod. “I’ll pull the curtains back, so we have some form of light.” He pulled away to do so and squinted slightly as his eyes adjusted. The blinds were still down, and it was enough of a dampener to keep it from being overwhelming.

“What’d you feel like doing?” Historia reached up to undo her bun before she squirmed her way out of her bra. Hunter didn’t blink; it was routine by now.

He scanned the list of games that had popped up on the screen absentmindedly. “I wouldn’t mind shooting things.” He didn’t need story or waiting. Action without an exceeding amount of required skill would be enough to keep his thoughts from falling back into an anxious state.

“Shooting things, it is.” She tossed him a controller and pressed the button to get the game going. “So, how’d he find you?”

Hunter wasn’t surprised at the question just as he wasn’t surprised that she was using one of his own tactics against him. Truth was easier when you’re distracted. “I don’t know,” he said as he picked his character—a dark haired woman with severe eyes. “He’s like you, I guess. He can sniff anyone out.”

“Big praise.” The loading screen flashed before they were deposited into a bunker full of weapons. “Did you let him in because you wanted to or because you felt pressured?”

He paused at that; his character stood in front of a health kit. “I wanted to,” he finally said, and found it to be true. “I wanted to help him the way he helped me. He didn’t ask to stay. He didn’t ask for much of anything except why—”

_“Why did you stop wearing the necklace?”_

The door opened and they stepped out into the apocalypse. “Except why?” She prompted.

“His number,” Hunter scrambled to say, story rushing to form some semblance of the truth. “I deleted his number when I thought he didn’t want anything to do with me anymore. He asked me why.”

Gore flashed by the screen as Historia blew a zombie’s head off with her shotgun. “It’s been years, right? It’s not that strange that you’d delete it.”

“Yeah, I guess he just—” Hunter fumbled for words even as he sliced his way through a mob. “it was important at the time, I guess it still is. Apparently, he was in a coma the whole time so waking up and not being able to contact me must have been—surprising.”

It’s not the best synopsis of his life but Hunter isn’t entirely sure of what he’s saying. He’s too close to the issue, still too confused over his own emotions to have the distance necessary to examine their situation.

“He’s been in a coma?” Historia repeated. “Shit, that’s rough. I bet that pulled on your heart strings.”

He blushed, unable to deny it. “He’s had a rough life. I just—want to repay him in whatever small way that I can. He saved my life.”

He could feel her eyes on him but he was too busy making sure that they weren’t surrounded to look back.

“Does he expect you to pay him back?” She said slowly. “Or are you the one who thinks you’re indebted to him?”

Hunter stared as his character was tackled to the floor. Historia freed him but he was slow to get back up, thoughts racing. “I think you’re getting too good at this.”

She grinned, obviously aware of the fact that he wasn’t only talking about the game. They reached the safe house and their stats popped up as the door slid shut behind them. “Don’t worry, you’ll catch up. Round two?”

“Round two,” he confirmed.

There was a lightness to his shoulders, some unknown weight lifted off.

Rivaille was back and Hunter didn’t quite know why, but that was okay; he would find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my favorite chapter so far and also one of my most accurate depictions of anxiety to date
> 
> Historia is my girl and Hunter will fight anyone who goes after her

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @ my101fragiledreams
> 
> [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3D7M7XYU7MM7wpDxreIEp4?si=IyE7lOeXQj2_s8nYcCL_xw)
> 
> [Board](https://www.pinterest.com/101fragiledream/when-human-frailty-is-in-the-hands-of-a-monster/)
> 
> Go nuts (join me)


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